


Bowling with the Watson-Holmes Clan

by InkMySkin



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Children, Family, Gen, General, John and Sherlock are Parents, John is long-suffering, Love, Party, Sherlock being all parental, Watson-Holmes Clan, bowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:59:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkMySkin/pseuds/InkMySkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Sherlock attend the birthday party of Hamish's friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bowling with the Watson-Holmes Clan

**Author's Note:**

> Who can guess where I work?! :)

John sighed contentedly. The background noise of some local radio station was playing and the stomach-rumbling smell of chips temped him. The heavy thud of bowling balls hitting the lanes filled his ears and the incessant chatter of mums surrounded him. He was happy here. Stood next to his husband and watching their son as he attended a friends bowling party. 

Thankfully, Hamish had been accepted into a circle of friends of open-minded children and like-minded parents, where having two dads wasn’t weird. John watched as his son sat quietly on one of the chairs allocated to his lane for a moment, before his friend, Ben, sat beside him. They talked animatedly for a little while before it was Hamish’s turn to bowl. An irritated sigh brought John back to the present from his daydream of a champion bowler for a son. 

“Look at the state of his swing, John. I won’t let our son be beaten by this bunch of children,” Sherlock sneered at the word, as if his own son wasn’t one, “He’s much more exceptional than that.”

“Sherlock, like it or not, Hamish is a child. He will being staying that way for a while yet.” Pause. “Though he is exceptional. That’ll be because he’s your son.” John winced; he knew what was coming next due to his word choice, “Biologically, I mean.”

John was proud of Hamish, more than he could be of anything else. The small boy’s mop of curly brown hair and bright brown eyes were undeniably Sherlock and not John. Biologically. Almost seven years ago now they’d convinced a wary Lestrade to let his new wife, Molly, be their surrogate. A task she was more than happy to comply with. They had mixed both John and Sherlock’s semen and had Molly fertilized, not minding about the biological end result, it would still be their child. Sherlock’s genetics dominated and, in John’s opinion, thankfully, taken charge. And little Hamish looked just like his Father. But of course there is always the argument of nature versus nurture, and so Hamish had the kind, caring and protective mannerisms of his Daddy. 

Another irritated sigh, “Look John, he’s fouled now.”

“Go help him if you’re that bothered then, love.”

John hadn’t meant for Sherlock to take the comment literally, but before he could stop him, Sherlock had fiddled with the controls, reset Hamish’s pins and bounded over in all his gangly elegance to help his son. John sighed again, back to his happy place, as he watched his husband bend down and whisper in their son’s ear before taking the bowling ball and demonstrating how to bowl correctly, for maximum chances to gain a strike, which Sherlock probably worked out after standing here for two point eight seconds.

Even though they were in the local bowling alley, with the smell of greasy chips saturating the air, Sherlock was still looking sharp and dapper in his signature suit. The other parents had learned to accept the eccentricities of the Watson-Holmes clan and, as John watched his little family, one of the mums approached him.

“John,” he turned at the sound of his name and saw Julie, a pleasant woman and mother to the birthday boy, “What is Sherlock doing? Hamish can bowl for himself can’t he?”

“Hey, Jules. Yeah he can. But Sherlock will not rest until his son is exceptional in all aspects of life. Poor Hamish.”

Julie laughed. “I wish Jeremy would think to help poor Alfie, because frankly, Alfie’s crap. I might tip off the staff to make him win somehow.”

The two parents shared a giggle at that, both separately wondering of that were strictly possible and fair. Satisfied that his son may actually get a strike, Sherlock swiftly kissed the top of Hamish’s head and headed back to where John was chatting to…Jenny? ...Julie.  


“Can I get you two a drink?” Jules asked upon Sherlock’s return.  


“Coffee. Black. Two sugars.” Sherlock said, flippantly while closely analysing Hamish’s swing. Julie wondered off to the diner area. 

A loud clatter of pins informed them all a strike had been achieved. Sherlock grinned at John, with a smug gleam in his eyes that John could not help but return.  


John said proudly, “That’s our boy.”


End file.
